


Saviour of The Broken

by Raven052



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, House of Wolves, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Non-Graphic Violence, The Black Parade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven052/pseuds/Raven052
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take his hand, the Leader of The Black Parade has a story to tell...<br/>Even if it's not a pretty one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saviour of The Broken

You’re not supposed to be here. 

How do I know that? Because I always know when someone’s supposed to be here. I’m the first to know. Well, after her anyway, and I’ve not seen your name. 

How do I know your name? 

Don’t ask such stupid questions. 

Who am I? No one’s ever asked me that before… Don’t you know? I’m the Leader of The Black Parade.  
You can call me The Singer, if you like.

Fine, take my hand, I suppose I have time to show you around. You might not like what there is to see though. 

_Taking the gloved hand of the man in the black and silver military uniform, led through the doorway. Coming into a massive grey expanse of… Nothing. Fragments of worlds on either side of a wide, seemingly never ending road._

Well, this is it. Home, I’d guess you’d call it. I’ve been here so long I guess I don’t know what else it could be. 

I know, there’s not much here… This is just where we start off, this is where the Parade begins. The others are here somewhere too. 

Why do you keep asking about me? I’ve told you who I am.

Oh… How I got here? Alright, come on, we’ll go to the float, we can sit there while I tell you, if you really want to know. 

_Walking for what seemed like miles. Finally the huge black float came into view. Walking up to it, an odd sense of hope, of comfort, but also of loss, of fear._

It doesn’t bite. Follow me, up this way. 

_Small steps, leading up. The Singer never letting go. Lead to the very centre. The Singer stands still for a second. His other hand reaching for something._  
This is the spot where he performs.  
Forward again, to the edge, sitting when he does. The hand released. 

The Black Parade wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for me. I’m not being big headed, I’m simply stating the truth. I’m just sorry anyone else had to be a part of it.  
The funny thing is, I didn’t even do it for myself.  
I did it for my brother. 

We came here by accident. We weren’t supposed to be here, well… I wasn’t. But I wasn’t letting him go alone.  
We got lost… Ended up someplace awful.  
We ended up in the House of Wolves.

Trust me. You don’t want to know. Count yourself lucky I’ve been kind and took you by the hand, if you’d gone exploring alone, you’d have ended up there too. 

We were scared, terrified, and the worst thing was, we showed it, we showed them we were scared. It only encouraged them. At first just taunting and jeering at us, then they got closer, started prodding us, shoving us.  
Then they got more violent…  
I think they knew I wasn’t meant to be there, they weren’t trying to get to me so much, but my brother…  
I couldn’t let them do it.  
As soon as I started getting in their way, they started focusing their attention on me. I just wanted to protect him, I didn’t care what happened to me.  
I didn’t think anything could hurt that much.  
They didn’t have hands, they had claws… Sharp like razors.  
They shredded skin and broke bones.  
I fought and I got my brother away from them too, somehow we got out of the main hall. Though I stumbled and tripped, I never let go of his hand, and he pulled me up every time I fell.  
Finally we got to another room, locked the door behind us. We could still hear them outside, but the door was sturdy, we let ourselves collapse on the floor, backs to the wall. Eyes closed, trying to breathe. Dripping sweat that mingled with our blood. 

Told you it wasn’t a nice story.

I don’t know how long we sat there, just us and our gasping breaths filling the empty room. Eventually I opened my eyes, saw the stone floor covered and smeared in blood, knew it was ours, wondered how I could still open my eyes. My brother still beside me, his eyes were open too, watching me, I realised I still had his hand, squeezed it, tried to tell him we’d be ok. Told him,  
“I got you M-”

_He paused. Blinked. Frowned, trying hard to remember something. Closed his eyes, tight._

Come on.

_The words were to himself.  
Shook his head, carried on. _

Then we heard a shuffling, a creaking, old metal trying to move, and a heavy, strange breathing that wasn’t our own.  
We realised we weren’t as alone in the room as we’d thought.  
Then she came into view. 

Mother War

I still don’t know where she came from, there was only one door and me and my brother were slumped against it. But, I knew so little then, Mother War appears where she needs to appear, when she needs to appear. Normal means of getting about do not apply to her.  
Dressed in tatters of a once resplendent, now stained dress, rusted steal over it. Tufts of dirty white, tangled hair, trapped beneath the straps of the gasmask covering her face, the source of the odd, assisted breathing.  
I was so fucking scared of her. But I was more scared of the fact I felt so utterly safe and calm in her company.

When she spoke her voice was light, clear, soothing.  
The disturbing thing was…  
Her voice was inside my head.

 _“You are not supposed to be here.”_

I know, same words I said to you. 

I told her, “I couldn’t let my brother come alone.” 

_“Why?”_

“Because he’s my brother.” 

I remember the way she tilted her head, staring at me, staring at my brother, looking like she was trying to figure us out.

_“You cannot stay. And he cannot go.”_

“Please. Don’t ask me to leave him.”

_“You don’t know who you’re talking to, do you?”_

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t. But I am asking you, begging you, if you have any say over this, don’t make me leave my brother here.”

_“Fine. I’ll hand you back to the Wolves.”_

“No! Please! I can’t! I can’t watch them tear him apart!”

_“Two choices. You leave. Or you stay. And be ripped apart over and over again.”_

“No…”  
I was in agony. So much… The thought of leaving him, the thought of watching him be… And… I was bleeding so heavily, he was too, we were so… Everything was so wrong. And I couldn’t fix it, I didn’t know how. 

“Please! Please there has to be another way! Please! Something! Anything!”

I cried, I begged, I pleaded, but she just stood there, staring, watching me. I reached out for her, she took a single step back, all she needed to do. I held my brother tight. You know what he said? 

He said,  
“It’s ok.” 

He said,  
“You can go. You don’t have to do this.”  
That just made me more determined. 

Then she started to turn away, she was going to leave us, I kept on pleading though and then…  
I still have no idea what it was I said.

_“Perhaps… Perhaps there is an alternative… Anything, you say?”_

“Yes. Please. Anything, I’ll do anything, just-”

_“I know what it is you want. Now you need to listen to what I want._  
I’ve been thinking… The people who come here… They’re all so frightened, so… Lonely. They are not comforted by me, as much as I try. That is why so many end up in the House of Wolves. They panic. In the end, it is fear that takes them there. Nothing else.  
What they need is something… Something to guide them, something to take them in, something to make them feel… Welcome, here. I have been thinking… About a parade.” 

“A parade? I don’t-”

_“You will learn not to interrupt me. I believe you are quite the performer, am I right?”_

“Possibly.”

_“Don’t be coy. You’re magnificent. I’m thinking… I want you to be **my** performer.”_

“Fine.”

_“You haven’t heard the terms.”_

“I don’t care about the terms. If it keeps me here, if it keeps my brother safe. Fine. I’ll shake your hand, I’ll sign where I need to. Done. You have a deal.” 

_“Very well. No need to sign anything, your words bind you well enough.”_  
Then she held out her hand, and I took it. 

We were separated at first, me and my brother. I was scared, but I let it go, knowing I had to trust Mother War, simply because I had no other choice. 

I was taken to another room. Stripped completely, tended to by strange men with haunted eyes. Somehow they healed me, nothing was broken, nothing was torn, nothing was bleeding, nothing hurt.  
Then I was washed, cleansed with freezing water and soft sponges. I protested, said I could do that myself.  
 _“Hush, dear.”_  
So I hushed. Shaking with cold and fear.

Finally they left, then she appeared again. I sat up as she entered.  
She held something in her arms, and she hung it from a nail on the wall.

 _“Your new clothes.”_ She said. _“Your uniform.”_

I went over to it, ran my hand over the fabric. I was surprised at how soft it was. 

The black trousers, silver stripe down the outside of each leg.  
A plain black shirt.  
Then the jacket.  
Why am I telling you this? You can see what I’m wearing.

There were boots too, and after I was dressed again I looked at myself in the mirror. I hadn’t noticed my hair had been cut until now, short, it looked so different, I wasn’t sure if I liked it.  
Just as I lifted my hand to touch it, Mother War came up behind me, her hand touching my hair first.  
My hair turned as white as hers would be if it wasn’t so filthy and bedraggled. 

_“My soldier. My singer. My saviour of the broken… My Leader of The Black Parade.”_

I lowered my hand and nodded. She guided me around, to face her, handed me these black leather gloves, which I slipped my hands into.  
I was startled when her hand touched my face, but I did my best not to show it.  
I looked up.

_“You have such a pretty face… The comfort, the happiness you’ll give people.”_

Then I was led… Here.  
Me and my brother were reunited. He’d gone through the same process, and was redressed, like me.

 _A man came into view, dressed like The Singer, though his jacket was longer, and a medal was worn upon it. His black hair was short and slicked down. Tall and vaguely wiry, his face pretty, and though it didn’t much resemble that of The Singer, by the way they looked at each other, it was clear that this was The Brother._  
I hugged him. Pleased we were alright. Frightened for what we’d become.

After a while the others came too. They joined.  
The drummer and the guitarist were chosen by Mother War. Both came gladly to us, happy for a purpose.

_Two more appeared, both dressed in a similar way, though with subtle differences that marked them out._

Then… _He_ came along. 

_One final member joined the group, again with similar attire, but there was something markedly different about him. An odd… Electricity seemed to come from him. Like there was something there, something big and bold, being forced to be contained._  
Smaller than the rest, his black hair short, styled softly to the side. A beautiful face, little silver rings in his nose and lip. His eyes were wide, staring, staring at The Singer.  
Not like The Brother was though, this was different. It was like he was asking something.  
No. Pleading something. 

When we came to greet him, he didn’t react the way people are supposed to.  
We didn’t realise we weren’t whole yet. We’d marched many times already, I’d performed many times already. But when we came to him, he looked at me like he knew me. 

**“Gee! Fucking hell I- You scared the fuck out of me. Guys! Why the fuck didn’t you let me know you’d found him?”**

I didn’t understand any of it, he was calling me by a name I didn’t recognise, and the others… They weren’t saying a word.  
He scared me, to be honest.  
He was filthy, looked like he’d been dragged through the House of Wolves already, though there was no way he could’ve, he hadn’t gone through us yet. What really scared me was the way he was looking at me… I’m used to people looking for me to save them.  
But he looked like he wanted to save me. 

Then he became upset, started shouting and screaming. Demanding to know what was going on. Demanding _me_ to tell him what was going on. But I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know how to help him. 

Eventually Mother War came, with Fear and Regret flanking her.  
She’d given those girls to me, to the Black Parade, but they can just as often be found by her side.  
They took him away, he was still shouting, kicking, fighting. He never took his eyes off me. 

Mother War explained. Said he was meant to be one of us.  
Not long after he returned, dressed like us, he joined us, took his place with the Black Parade.  
But…  
He still looks at me like that… And he still… He still… Calls me that name…  
I don’t know what it means…

_The man was still staring, looking more distressed as The Singer told his story, the pleading made sense now._  
He remembered what The Singer didn’t.  
And it was tearing him apart. 

So… That’s it. That’s how we became.  
Now, you should really go. The Parade is starting again soon, you don’t want to be here for that. 

_The Singer stood again, his hand outstretched once more. Taken, led back again, past the other Soldiers‘, Musicians, Marchers in the Black Parade._  
All watching The Singer as he went.  
At the door again, and The Singer turned. 

The Black Parade doesn’t march for you just yet. But it will. We’ll be here. 

_A few seconds later, distant music, the words, sung in The Singers beautiful voice, was clear:_

_We’ll carry on. We’ll carry on._


End file.
